“Come,” said Folliard, who was not prepared with an answer to this, “come,” said he, addressing the sheriff, “come, till we make out his _mittimus_, and give him the first shove to the gallows.” They then left him. CHAPTER XXI.--Sir Robert Accepts of an Invitation. The next morning rumor had, as they say, her hands and tongues very full of business. Reilly and the Red Rapparee were lodged in Sligo jail that night, and the next morning the fact was carried by the aforesaid rumor far and wide over the whole country. One of the first whose ears it reached was the gallant and virtuous Sir Robert Whitecraft, who no sooner heard it than he ordered his horse and rode at a rapid rate to see Mr. Folliard, in order, now that Reilly was out of the way, to propose an instant marriage with the _Cooleen Bawn_. He found the old man in a state very difficult to be described, for he had only just returned to the drawing-room from the strongly sentinelled chamber of his daughter. Indignation against Reilly seemed now nearly lost in the melancholy situation of the wretched _Cooleen Bawn_. He had just seen her, but, somehow, the interview had saddened and depressed his heart. Her position and the state of her feelings would have been pitiable, even to the eye of a stranger; what, then, must they not have been to a father who loved her as he did? “Helen,” said he, as he took a chair in her room, after her guards had been desired to withdraw for a time, “Helen, are you aware that you have eternally disgraced your own name, and that of your father and your family?” Helen, who was as pale as death, looked at him with vacant and unrecognizing eyes, but made no reply, for it was evident that she either had not heard, or did not understand, a word he said. “Helen,” said he, “did you hear me?” She looked upon him with a long look of distress and misery, but there was the vacancy still, and no recognition. This, I suppose, thought the father, is just the case with every love-sick girl in her condition, who will not be allowed to have her own way; but of what use is a father unless he puts all this nonsense down, and substitutes his own judgment for that of a silly girl. I will say something now that will startle her, and I will say nothing but what I will bring about. “Helen, my darling,” he said, “are you both deaf and blind, that you can neither see nor hear your father, and to-morrow your wedding-day? Sir Robert Whitecraft will be here early; the special license is procured, and after marriage you and he start for his English estates to spend the honeymoon there, after which you both must return and live with me, for I need scarcely say, Helen, that I could not live without you. Now I think you ought to be a happy girl to get a husband possessed of such immense property.” She started and looked at him with something like returning consciousness. “But where is Willy Reilly?” she asked.